Synthesis
by HeartofSilence
Summary: All it takes is one slip, one mistake, and the chain reaction can lead to ruin.
1. Death and Birth

Chapter 1

Death and Birth

Author's Note: I'm writing this for no better reason than there is not enough love for this character. Also, because I'm avoiding homework. Tell me what you think.

Rating is for language, violence, and disturbing elements later on in the story.

Disclaimer: Want it. Don't have it. Can't get it. ::unhappyface::

/ooOOOoo\

A dimmed hospital light illuminated a small room and an even smaller figure swathed in tubes, blankets, and assorted medical equipment. The child was barely visible, and her emaciated form seemed even tinier connected to the array of machines keeping her alive. Once vibrant – now dulled and matted – red hair was swept from her forehead and glazed gray eyes attempted to focus on her mother sitting beside the hospital bed.

"How are you feeling honey?" her mother, barely middle-aged but looking far older, questioned tentatively.

For a moment the girl looked as if she might answer, she even opened her mouth and a small sound emerged, but when her only parent leaned forward in anticipation, the girl's mouth closed once more and she fell again into slumber. The mother sighed in disappointment and not a little despair.

A doctor walked in and shut the door behind him as quietly as possible. Fingering a clipboard awkwardly in his hands for a moment, he cleared his throat. The mother turned in brief surprise.

"Oh! Hello, Doctor Stephens." She deliberately didn't ask anything about the condition her daughter was in. She knew; all there was left to do now was delay the inevitable.

"Miss Adams… the test results came in," he paused to gather his composure "I'm afraid that the procedure - the bone marrow transplant – has not improved your daughter's condition." As the mother's head lowered and she slumped, tears gathering in her eyes, the doctor reluctantly continued. "Her illness is advancing into the final stages before…" he stopped and walked forward to rest his hand on her shoulder, offering what meager comfort he could to a mother facing the loss of a child.

He allowed her to adjust to this new information before he resumed once again, surprising her tears to a momentary halt. "However, there is one last thing we might try…" He directed a stern glance toward her sudden ludicrously hopeful expression, aiming to quell any false notions she might be dreaming up. He removed his hand, turned and walked a few steps away from her, back turned. "With all the time you've spent here, Miss Adams, I'm sure you know of the medical research wing we have in this very hospital?" Stephens didn't wait for an answer. "It's still within the testing phase, but we've been busy developing a possible cure for severe leukemia patients, like your daughter. With your permission, I think I could pull some strings-"

"Yes!" the mother interrupted vehemently. "If there is anything that might save my daughter, anything at all," Miss Adams rose from her seat. "I'll agree to it. She's… all that's left…"

"Before you make any final decisions, I must warn you that this treatment is volatile at best and has never been administered to a human before." He looked at her for a last confirmation.

She gave it in an instant. "I don't care anymore."

/ooo\

"The catalyst has been implemented? Good."

An irate-looking female doctor was standing next to Stephens, who was overlooking the procedure. "This could compromise everything we've accomplished so far. You know that." She expressed her exasperation with a few flicking gestures. "At last, after countless attempts we finally have a living specimen, and it's as if you want to see if we can't kill it with your hero complex…"

Stephens didn't turn his eyes from the furiously working medical scientists, and there was a long silence. So long that the other doctor had assumed she was being ignored before he answered. "… Three floors below us, down the hall and on the left, is room 378. Inside rests a nine-year-old girl named Linda, who has lived here for most of her life, never playing, barely breathing, rarely seeing the sun." He looked at the other doctor with weary eyes. "Do you want to be the one to open that door, and tell the girl's mother her baby is going to die?"

The woman lowered her eyes in shame, and quietly left the lab.

/ooo\

Lucid sleep.

It is a pleasant and surreal sensation that, if removed suddenly, can result in intense disorientation and anxiety, among other unwelcome effects. In a nutshell, that is much how thermal reaction akroxeraviridae VIII054, ThR:AX., felt as the newborn virus was prematurely forced into completion.

It started with a tingling, as the virus' body compressed and his membrane slowly started to harden into a capsid. The tingling developed into an increasingly uncomfortable burning sensation. With a start, ThR:AX jolted to an unexpected consciousness. Newly formed eyes darted to and fro, confused and in pain as his membranous shell completely solidified him into a more identifiable form; a stifling change from the floating oblivion.

The microscopically tiny newborn curled upon itself in burning pain and fear as its limbs stretched and developed at an accelerated rate. The growth eventually stopped, but the burning continued unabated.

"It's done."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis when ThR:AX was caught in an intense suction as he was drawn into a syringe from his previous home, the petri dish. Disoriented even more, he curled tighter and stayed that way when the lights went out. The darkness might have been comforting for the few moments it lasted, if it wasn't for the festering heat growing within the young virus. The burning, endless burning strove to drive away any notion of comfort ever again.

The light returned as suddenly as it had left, glaring easily through his closed eyelids, and ThR:AX felt the world lurching again.

/ooo\

"That's it? Just a shot?"

"That's it, Miss Adams."

This is one of the few times when little Linda seemed aware, and she looked at the syringe with a placidity that no child should have. The girl uncovered her arm, where numerous scars already marred the skin, and simply looked out the window.

Unleashing a sigh filled with sadness, Doctor Stephens knelt down next to Linda Adams. Her mother watched anxiously over his shoulder as he disinfected the injection site on the young girl's left arm, then carefully pierced the skin with the point of the small needle.

With a push of the plunger, the experimental virus akroxeraviridae was injected into Linda's failing body.


	2. Arrival

Chapter 2

Arrival

/ooOOOoo\

"Hurry! The treatment is happening sooner than expected! Get those people out of the way! Prepare the injection site."

A fortified and secluded area within the upper arm was bustling with cellular activity. Red blood cells were scurrying back and forth, overseen by a lone brain cell who was far removed from her area of expertise due to the crisis at hand.

Stella Purkinje observed the large receptacle being prepared for the new arrival with tired eyes, red-rimmed from lack of rest. Like the other cells in the area, she wore a full-body protective suit, fully intending to do her part to help in any way. Even with such a vital and nerve-wracking event, and constantly shouting orders to the scurrying red blood cells below, it was all she could do to just keep her eyes open. Stella was the head advisor for the current mayor stand-in within the decimated city of Linda. Very recently appointed to her position, it was extremely stressful to be given such an important task.

Once the injection site was sealed off completely, she gestured for the workers to back away. Another cell walked up to her and spoke in her ear. She straitened, and addressed the cells present. "Okay! Incoming in roughly thirty seconds, people!"

Everyone held their breath and silently counted down amongst themselves. At about twenty-seven seconds, the ground beneath them was unsettled and a huge chromatic spike split the center of the quarantined area. A moment afterward it released a liquid that sloshed outward to lap at the walls around it, before the needle point departed.

Stella squinted down at scene; searching for something, anything, when she finally spotted a tiny limp form curled upon itself on the ground where it had washed up next to one of the walls. Several red blood cells immediately moved into the sealed area to close the relatively small puncture wound, while four others approached the still body near the wall, bearing weapons as a precautionary measure. After a moment's uncertainty, Stella joined them.

Getting a closer look, the new arrival was even smaller than he at first appeared. About as tall as the cellular equivalent of a ten-year-old boy, though very thin, he seemed lifeless. Gray, hard skin covered his body. Even so obviously young, the virus showed no resemblance to a cell's soft features. Six dark protrusions that were each about as long as Stella's small finger arched back from where the boy's hairline would have been, if he were human. The advisor thought she saw claws extending from the hands that were tucked underneath his body. _What is this? Did they send an unattentuated pathogen to us?_

One of the larger red blood cells prodded the limp virus with the end of his gun. In disgust, Stella shoved the offender out of the way and reached out cautiously, more out of dread that the boy was no longer living, than any fear of danger. Spotting something on the back of his neck she tilted his head to get a better look, shocked by feverish heat she discovered emanating from his skin, even through the protective gloves. Shallowly indented on the back of his neck, vertically, were the letters: ThR:AX.

"Thrax…"

Vibrant, barely lucid yellow eyes shot open. Thrax's pupils shrank to tiny pinpricks that were nearly invisible in the strangely violent hue of his irises. He jerked into an upright sitting position and backed into the wall. The suited red blood cells, along with Stella, backed up, surprised by the sudden movement, and the former raised their weapons.

The young virus had a distinctly feverish, confused expression as his gaze darted between all five of his immediate company. Unconsciously making himself seem smaller, his two-toed feet were tucked underneath his body and delicate claws were held in a passive position close to the virus's body. Thrax was shaking involuntarily with such vigor that they were almost convulsions.

Seeing the undertone of pain that appeared out of place in a child's eyes, Stella's defensive stance relaxed. "You." She said to the cell closest to her, who started and pointed at himself as if to say 'who, me?' "Go get a blanket for the boy. Can't you see he's shivering?" Slightly baffled, he rushed to do as she bid.

Stella was shocked again when, right after the cell left, the young virus lurched forward and heaved clear liquid onto the ground. On instinct, She reached out to him with a one-armed embrace, tracing soothing circles on his back with the palm of her hand. The tense moment passed, and now Thrax was frantically gasping in shuddering and raspy breaths. The brain cell wasn't sure, but she thought his grey skin might have pinkened slightly at this.

The red blood cell returned, pushing through the others huddling around to hand a thin, green blanket to Stella. She was glad the blanket was so flimsy. She knew the virus would probably appreciate it, but it would raise his disconcerting temperature even more. Stella wrapped the calming and unresisting virus in the blanket, being careful of the sharp claws. She may have been just an office official, but she knew enough about the dangers of viruses, no matter how small.

Avoiding said appendages, Stella was surprised to note what appeared to be a missing index finger on his left hand. A slight turn of the wrist and a closer examination revealed that to not be the case. A claw that was much longer than the others appeared to be locked in a bent position, the tip resting lightly next to Thrax's forearm. The smaller claws twitched and moved slightly, independent of this foreclaw, which she speculated might be a paralyzed deformation. That wouldn't be surprising. After all, according to their intelligence lines this was only an experimental virus.

Once the blanket was securely wrapped around Thrax, Stella had one of the larger workers assist her in carrying the virus out of the safety zone. The punctured area was nearly sealed, so they were free to leave the confines of the quarantine as long as there were plenty of specially trained red blood cells nearby to act as security. Since the virus appeared to be no immediate threat, the only other safety measures they were required to make were a pair of cuffs that barely fit the tiny wrists, in order to restrict the range of those sharp, dangerous claws.

Thrax grew increasingly lethargic and complacent, and didn't flinch at all when his wrists were bound; didn't cringe or resist when he was stowed in the back of a large truck with a troupe of anxious-looking cells, including Stella.

Seeing him sitting there on the floor, Stella looked with sadness at their one remaining hope for a future. _He's just a child… This changes everything._

The truck was soon moving, leaving Linda's arm behind and traveling along a blood stream hidden deep within muscles and tissue. Thrax fell into a sort of lucid unconsciousness. It wasn't sleep; his eyes remained open, but empty, unnerving more than a few of the compartment's other occupants. The vehicle rolled onward in its journey toward the brain.


	3. Illness Begotten by Illness

Chapter 3

Illness begotten by Illness

/ooOOOoo\

Substitute mayor Aaron Golg was an impatient man. The times were few nowadays that he even found himself with nothing requiring his immediate attention. This was one of those times and the chord binding his mind to sanity was looking particularly thin as he tried to wear a trench in the office floor from ceaseless pacing.

Golg was the typical gray color of your average brain cell, and possessed a wiry frame; spry despite his advancing age. He had been transferred to this body during Linda's mother's pregnancy in an unfortunate lapse of good judgment. Golg's usually dapper suit was rumpled and his facial hair was graying prematurely from living in a body that, despite sympathy, he had wished he'd never moved to. It seemed as if he'd been put into this position only to watch as the city fell apart.

It was unusual for the body of a female to be run by a male mayor, though as of now he was not officially mayor. After the untimely demise of both the previous leader and her replacement, it had fallen to Golg to assume the important role. The general populace had unanimously decided to postpone the petty voting process for a time when all their lives did not hang in the balance.

Golg was jolted out of his musings when a faint beep sounded from a pager on his desk. He literally flung himself at the "accept" button. "Are they back!" he practically shouted into the small microphone. The second of silence felt almost tangible to the high-strung man.

A tinny voice answered across the line. "Yes, sir. They have just arrived and should be able to give a full report at your office within a few minutes."

"Thank you, Irene." With another beep the communication line was severed.

Suppressing his desire to simply run out the door and meet them halfway, Golg attempted to calm his frayed nerves and leaned back in his swivel chair.

/ooo\

The armored truck had to pass through a security checkpoint to get to the brain. With a flash of her official identification, Stella got them through to the walled and quarantined area immediately; most of the guards knew quite well of the important cargo the vehicle carried.

Even on an empty road, the ride had taken several hours. Thrax had remained in the same position for the entire trip, except maybe to lower his head slightly, removing his vacant gaze from the relieved red blood cells. The brain cell was becoming concerned about the virus. His temperature hadn't lowered in the slightest; if anything, it had actually risen.

They drove down into an underground complex hidden below the abandoned cerebellum hall before they came to a halt in a circular, domed lot. From there they had to walk.

While the truck's occupants filed out with their various equipment, papers, and documentation, Stella enlisted the same burly red blood cell as before to assist her in removing Thrax from the now stationary transport.

From some small movement, the boy seemed to regain a portion of lucidity when he was lifted from his seat on the floor. He remained frighteningly limp, however.

Stella walked to the other end of the room and through a series of coded doors with Thrax and the red blood cell in tow. When she came to an intersection, she paused for a moment before deciding to take the right, surprising the red blood cell. The left would have taken her to the elevators leading to the brain. Stella knew she was to report immediately to the mayor upon arrival, but Thrax's unhealthy condition was going to delay that, whether the mayor liked it or not. Come hell or high water, they were going to the infirmary.

Stella Purkinje had taken off the protective suit during the drive, and now stepped down the hall with purpose in a steel-gray blazer and skirt. Her amorphous hair was tied severely back into a bun. She appeared in her thirties, but her smooth, light gray skin hinted at her true age of twenty-four.

She got about half-way down the hall before she noticed she wasn't being followed. She turned and glared at the ironically meek red blood cell. "Well, are you coming?" She tapped her foot.

"But- weren't we supposed to go right to the mayor? He'll be angry." The last part was almost a whine.

Sighing in exasperation, Stella marched over, yanked Thrax away from the startled cell, and continued on her way, leaving him to stand there and scratch his head. "Moron. If you want something done, do it yourself." It wasn't really a problem, Thrax was actually quite light.

Arriving at the infirmary at last, Stella handed him over to a surprised doctor; an older cell who was a bit thick around the middle, with a pair of spectacles and an uppity look about him. He was one of the few white blood cells still employed by the city; a different kind than the usual lymphocyte, who would normally work at the local immunity office. The doctor immediately set Thrax upon a hospital bed, wiping his hands on his jacket as if they were dirtied. He was not pleased.

"Stella? What the hell…" He gestured to the hospital bed with an angry wave of his arm. "You can't take that thing in _here_. Golg will skin me alive!"

"Please Liam, can't you help me just this once? He's really sick."

"I don't know if I can do anything for him anyway; my area of expertise lies exclusively with _cells_, Stella. This- this is no cell."

Stella tried using a pleading look, but when that failed utterly, she went on a different track. "…You owe me."

Doctor Liam sneered, then caved with a sigh. "Fine, fine. But you'll be taking the fall for this! Helping viruses…" he muttered. "What has Linda come to?"

/ooo\

_Tap tap tap._

_Tap tap._

_Tappity tap tap tap-_

"-Where are they!" Golg had been waiting a long time, and by now he knew it wasn't just his impatience making it seem that way. He pushed the speaker button on his desk. "Irene?" his voice was forcefully polite and calm. "The visitors have not reported in yet, why?"

The response came back through with a crackle. "I'm not positive, sir, but I heard from one of the assignment workers that she may have gone to the infirmary."

"The infirmary?" Golg deflated. "Is she injured? Never mind, I will see to this myself." _Click._ "I'll go crazy just sitting here anyway…" Springing up from his chair, he walked briskly out the door.


	4. Corruption

Chapter 4

Corruption

/ooOOOoo\

"Mrs. Purkinje, what is the meaning of this!" Golg's face burned to a darker hue when he saw his advisor.

Stella jumped and cringed in a distinctly guilty gesture. She turned to face the angry leader. "Mayor Golg, I- uh-

"What were you thinking! I thought I said _specifically _for you to report to me immediately on arrival. And here you are, taking off like this. You just brought a virus, _the_ _key_ so important to our survival, here without telling anyone? And why is there no security with you! Well!" His ranting and raving brought him within uncomfortable proximity of the humbled advisor.

Head lowered, Stella straightened her shoulders and answered with conviction in her voice. "The virus is ill. It became my prerogative to do anything I could to help him. A broken key helps no one, _sir_."

Taken aback by her defiance, Golg looked past Stella to get a better look at the small virus. He walked up to the hospital bed. Thrax was perfectly still, resting on his back; glazed eyes not looking at anything. There was a sheet covering him up to mid-abdomen, with his now unbound hands at his sides. A damp cloth was on his forehead. If it weren't for the heavy rise and fall of his thin chest, it would seem to all the world that the virus was deceased.

"This." Golg sneered. "We need someone to save us and they send a sick child. This is the end for us."

"Not until we give up. Look, can we at least discuss this outside?"

Golg gestured for her to lead the way and Stella complied, walking out into the hall where they were able to view the medical room through a large window.

/OOO\

Half-glancing at the two officials outside the window, who were no longer paying him attention, and pleasantly surprised that he hadn't been blamed for anything, Doctor Liam returned to tending the virus. There really was little he could do. He had no idea how this unexpected patient would react to heavy treatment. Liam rubbed at his face in anxiety.

For now, his only option was to try to manually lower the virus's temperature, but there were so many questions to be answered. What was the reason for the overheating in the first place? How high could his temperature get before being damaged? Could this even be normal? Liam didn't know, but what he did know was that empty stare the virus was aiming at the ceiling was unnerving in the extreme. He busied himself retrieving ice packs from a cooler.

Returning to the hospital bed, ice packs in hand, the doctor rested one at the side of Thrax's head. Thrax cringed away from the package and a sinister unearthly hiss emanated from somewhere in his chest. The yellow eyes focused their piercing gaze on Liam now, and the medical practitioner found he liked it much more when they were vacant and away from his person. After a second, Thrax relaxed and his eyes turned half-lidded as he slowly rested his head back on the ice pack. From that point on, he didn't react, except for a few flinches, when the others were placed at various locations across his body.

The muffled voices outside the window were becoming loud and vehement; apparently the discussion was not going well. Liam did his best to ignore it.

Not having much else to do but wait, the doctor eventually noticed the odd foreclaw on Thrax's left hand. Going over to investigate, he examined the unusual position the claw was bent into. With a moment's thought, he lifted the hand by the wrist and took hold of the bent joint between his index finger and thumb; gently trying to pry it out of the seemingly uncomfortable position. The long claw appeared to be locked in place and Liam was about to give up this pursuit when there was a sudden faint popping noise. He dropped the hand and looked up guiltily toward the window, but Golg and Stella were completely immersed in their discussion. Afterwards he turned to the virus to look for any signs of discomfort he might have caused.

Thrax was stirring. His eyes blinked and he shifted in his place on the hospital bed. The wrist and claws of his left hand twitched and flexed. Then, with a painful crackling sound, the foreclaw that had previously been completely immobile uncurled and stretched to its full length with a series of pops. It then fell to a position with the tip hovering just above the surface of the bed.

Gradually, the claw lost its dark grey tone to a dark red, which spread up Thrax's arm, across his chest, and over the rest of his body with a visible shudder, turning him a vastly different hue than before. The confused doctor Liam watched on as his patient struggled to sit up, appearing disoriented.

"You need to lie back down. You're weak and need to rest." Liam moved to guide Thrax back to his previous position on the bed when he was met with a glare intimidating and terrible on a child this age, virus or not. The long, dangerous foreclaw flared to a vibrant orange of its own volition, and tapped down on the solid siding of the bed. The framework broke out in cracks and started to melt, dripping to the floor. Liam blanched.

/OOO\

"I don't know what you want me to do, Ms. Purkinje. You are asking me to put my trust in a virus and risk the whole operation to failure."

"What you're proposing will be certain failure! I know he's a virus, but he's young still! We won't have to do things that way." Stella was at the point of pleading with the unannounced mayor of Linda. Golg only looked at her with disdain, but his continuing silence encouraged his advisor. "Let me work with him, I know I'll be able to make this work! He's just a child-"

Stella was interrupted by a garbled scream. Both brain cells whirled just in time to witness what was once Doctor Liam as he smacked into the window in a frenzy of hysteria. His membrane was splitting open and oozing viscous orange cytoplasm. Stella and Golg watched in horror as Liam boiled from the inside out, screaming hoarsely as his large stomach ruptured and splattered gore all over the wall and floor of the hospital room. Finally, just as the white blood cell was becoming indistinguishable, the screams ceased and he slipped to the floor with a sickening splat, leaving a trail of infected membrane and cytoplasm on the window as he fell.

Stella gaped in profound shock at the small virus sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, looking extremely confused and now violently shaking with cold. Golg recovered far quicker and soon the entire hall and medical room was swathed with security personnel who roughly detained Thrax despite the fact that he showed no further signs of aggressive behavior.

Mayor Golg looked at his open-mouthed advisor through the mass of guards and smirked without humor. "Permission granted."


	5. Lessons

Chapter 5

Lessons

/ooOOOoo\

"Okay, let's try this again…"

Stella and her unwitting protégé were sitting cross-legged across from each other in a square, bleach-white room. There was no furniture or other distinguishing features within the space other than a sad, tiny mattress in the corner and a bright light glaring down at the two with blinding brilliance. An indecently small space was reserved for amenities. The walls were thick and windowless, and there was a single door at Stella's back with about a dozen guards waiting behind it. The floor was cold.

Stella gestured to herself and enunciated, "My name is Stella. Say it with me now? _Stella_."

Thrax merely looked bored at the suggestion.

"Oh, never mind!" She sighed in exasperation at the difficult virus and rubbed her eyes in frustration.

He was now dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and loose pants. His wrists weren't cuffed, but the foreclaw was fastened to his arm in its former bent position with an encumbering, heavily reinforced binding contraption. His skin hadn't changed back to its gray color, but remained a vivid combination of red and maroon, while the dread-like strands on his head had changed to a dark tyrian purple. The alteration made the virus suddenly seem a lot less like the weak and defenseless child he had been when he arrived in this body.

Thrax propped his chin up on the palm of his hand and blinked at the obviously agitated brain cell. True to his word, Mayor Golg had taken Stella up on her offer and now she was doomed to mindless hours of attempting to convince this contrary creature to communicate. He hadn't said a word during the entire time he'd been here.

On the bright side, if anything was to be gained from this moment of sheer irritation, it was the temporary disregard Stella had for the newfound deeply ingrained fear she held for the small pathogen since the fiasco in the infirmary. The fact that she had judged so wrongly on the pure innocence of all children had shaken her badly.

With their lead physician out of commission, to put it mildly, it was fortunate that Thrax no longer seemed to require medical attention. The virus's alarming temperature had plummeted and now remained steady and normal. They never found out why he had overheated in the first place. What Stella and the others did not know, was that the fire that had so consumed him still burned at his core, waiting.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do…" she sighed.

The awareness in the predatory yellow eyes told her Thrax could understand every word she uttered. The gleam of intelligence there far surpassed the impression of youth. Maybe that was the problem? For the last two days Stella had been talking down to the virus as she would to a cell child, albeit a very dangerous one, who was just learning how to speak.

She tried a different tact. "I know you understand me."

The yellow eyes flicked up to her from counting the tiles on the wall.

"We need to know why you were sent here, what you are supposed to _do._"

Thrax removed his hand from his chin with an air of vague interest, clearly paying attention now.

Stella forged onward. "…Do _you_ even know?"

Thrax lowered his head and appeared deep in thought for several minutes. Stella held her breath when the virus looked her in the eye and for a moment appeared as if he was about to speak. There was a glimmer of far too many jagged teeth as he opened his mouth slightly, then, as if thinking better of the idea, closed it again.

Stella sighed in disappointment, scribbled down something in a small notebook, then rose from her seated position to approach the exit. "I'm ready to leave." She shouted through the thick door, which was unlocked with a series of scrapes and clicks. She looked back one last time at Thrax's contemplative expression aimed at the floor before the door boomed closed behind her.

/OOO\

It was a long time before Thrax moved, other than his eyes repeatedly flicking back and forth in deep thought, as if he was reading a book. Finally, his eyes halted their motions and narrowed.

Two of the shorter claws of Thrax's right hand scraped along the mechanic attached to his arm with a high octave screech. Two lines were left in their wake. The thing really was uncomfortable and awkward. It spanned from his elbow to his knuckles, leaving his wrist immobile and was so large that it weighed down the entire left side of his small body.

Three claws ran down the hard casing this time, softer. There was a faint click as the digits stopped at a barely visible seam along the edge. Thrax smirked. Back arching and shoulders shaking with profound effort, the virus drove all the claws of his right hand into the seam and rent the binding open. The force flung pieces of the broken contraption to all corners of the room with a clatter.

Finally free of the annoying restraint, Thrax stood and popped the joints of his newly unencumbered wrist and claw. He used his freed hand to brush back the short tendrils on his head that had fallen out of place. Turning around, he walked up to the far wall with intent in his stride. With severe concentration he managed to make his foreclaw come to life once again, as it had before, if a bit dimmer. Touching only the very tip of his longest claw to the wall, the young virus drew a long, vertical line.

/OOO\

Hours had passed and Stella was now returning to Thrax's chamber bearing a tray containing a number of different food items, with one glass of liquid. So far, every time they had brought food to the virus, the tray would come back completely untouched except for the glass, which would always be empty. No matter what food they tried, he refused to eat. It made her wish that they had access to more information about viruses; their behavior and how they functioned, but since the onset of the cataclysm wreaking havoc on their home, most of that vital information had been lost. Because of this, Stella found herself toting an array of food the mayor himself couldn't afford the luxury of.

She passed the worn-looking guards manning the hallway and received the go-ahead from the two stationed at the end. They opened the door for her after unlocking a convoluted combination of latches and bolts.

The tray she held clattered to the floor as soon as the brain cell entered the room and witnessed the scene before her.

Thrax was sitting calmly in the exact same spot he'd been in when Stella visited last. Only now, his foreclaw was on display, tapping with a _clink clink_ on a torn remnant of the casing that used to hold the deadly appendage at bay.

What shocked her more; though, was the far wall. Slightly charred gouges marred the formerly pristine white surface, creating scratchy, spidery letters.

_Find the Source, _screamed the tortured tiles.

The yellow eyes laughed at her.


	6. The Pain of Apathy

Chapter 6

The Pain of Apathy

/ooOOOoo\

Within a few scant minutes Thrax found himself once again swathed on all sides by numerous guards. It was inevitable and expected, and he simply waited in compliance for the cells to slap a new binding on his hand. What he did not expect was to be cuffed and dragged from the room. His resignation seemed to waver with uncertainty. A suspicious and confused look pierced Stella as the mob passed the threshold.

"What's going on?" Stella asked who she presumed to be the leader of this endeavor, jogging to catch up.

The cell snorted at her. "Mayor's orders. Ask him." He continued on, clearing the way for the others to bring the mildly struggling virus.

Still keeping up, Stella fumbled to retrieve her phone and dialed away. As soon as the line was picked up she stammered "What's the meaning of this, Golg? Where are they taking him?"

A heartbeat passed before he answered. "Oh, Stella. We are just running out of time. I truly had hoped that our friend would just accept that little glove I had painstakingly custom made, just for him. But, things don't always go according to plan, and now I find myself between a rock and a hard place."

He seemed so calm. "What are you saying?"

"We can't take any risks. It's time for some more… drastic measures."

By now, Stella and the cells bearing Thrax away were quite far from the white room, which had been stationed in the east wing of the underground complex beneath Cerebellum Hall. Down, down, down they went until the flights of stairs made Stella's legs ache and sweat bead on her brow.

She hesitated to continue the discussion with the mayor, fearful of what he was leading up to. "…What sort of measures?"

"There has already been one casualty. I will not allow our city to be compromised at the whim of a dangerous virus. Who knows what that _thing_ could have done after freeing itself."

The mayor's advisor stumbled on a step, causing her to fall behind.

"There is too much at stake and no more room for mistakes. The city is on the verge of destruction, and your grand scheme is no longer viable."

So absorbed in the mayor's foreboding words while simultaneously trying to keep up with the guards, Stella finally was brought to an abrupt halt by accidently running into a cell in front of her, causing him to turn and glare. All but four of the guards, along with Stella, were waiting outside a room similar in design to the infirmary room from before. It had the same large observatory window, but the area within was mostly empty; obviously cleared out recently.

"I took the liberty of having the virus examined while you were away the day before yesterday. Unfortunately, the simple solution of removing the problem directly is impossible. As it turns out, that claw contains a vital part of his internal infrastructure and removing it will probably result in death."

Not liking where this was going, Stella merely watched as Thrax was dragged inside the room to a sinister-looking chair that appeared to be redesigned from a regular hospital chair; like the ones Stella used to be fascinated by as a child when the doctor could move the chair in any direction with the push of a button. The comforting memory of a peaceful day long gone did nothing to soothe the dread when she saw the machinery attached to the left side of the chair with all the care of a mechanic entirely preoccupied with function and no elegance.

Mayor Golg continued unabated, fully aware of the proceedings even though he was not present. "Instead, I found another way that should be just about as effective. All the arrangements have been made; we shouldn't have to worry about the little scamp waving that weapon of his around anymore."

Everything seemed to dawn on Stella as Thrax finally really started struggling, catching on a lot quicker than the brain cell had. He fought, yanked, kicked, and tried to escape the tenacious grasp of his captors. The four cells holding him were surprised by the strength in such a small body, and one even let go of the virus, doubling over as he was kicked in the stomach. The others maintained their grip; however, and eventually muscled Thrax into the seat.

Stella gaped like a fish for a few seconds before she experienced a momentary flare of anger. "What have you done, Golg!" There was a _click_ on the other end as the line was severed.

As soon as the guards uncuffed the virus, his freed foreclaw flared to life and whipped in front of him in a threatening gesture. Thrax did not notice the fourth cell, who had been kicked earlier, until a frigid liquid was splashed over his body.

Thrax flinched and gasped, completely stunned. The burning hue in his claw went out as he sat there, panting and shaking. The shock from the cold stunned him for a moment too long. The small wrist of his right hand was bound to the arm of the chair with a _clack_. A replica of the old binding mechanism was swiftly attached once again to his left hand and arm. Without his other hand free it would be impossible for him to remove this time.

As he was returning to himself Thrax felt something cold and hard latch onto his neck, then another on his shoulder, and a third on his upper left arm. The wide ring clasped onto his arm was painfully tight. A red blood cell in a white coat emerged from the back of the room and the other cells backed off to make room for him. It also allowed Stella to get a clear look at Thrax.

Sparing a moment to glower fiercely at the white-coated cell, who was checking the equipment holding him in place, starting to type away on a station embedded into the wall; Thrax soon seemed to deflate. There was nothing he could do now but listen to the keys being typed away with a quiet acceptance.

The child-virus looked around himself with a growing helplessness. His gaze finally found Stella's. As the machinery at his left side began a low, rumbling whirr, his baleful eyes bore into hers with a profound questioning.

The phone clattered to the hard floor. _This is wrong._ Stella bit her lip in anxiety. She knew Thrax was dangerous, she knew he needed to be controlled, she knew that he could kill…

She also knew that Thrax had never even tried to hurt her.

_This is wrong._

The whirring of the machine became louder, and it finally jolted into motion with Thrax's eyes never leaving her. The clasp attached to his shoulder slowly moved back about an inch, then down until the pressure became distinctly uncomfortable.

Stella put her hands on the window. Compelled to watch even though she knew she should turn away.

The thick, heavily reinforced ring attached to Thrax's arm turned, forcing his arm perpendicular to his body, then back, causing the joint to pop. There was a moment when the machine simply stopped, though the whirr continued, and Stella almost relaxed; thinking maybe there had been a malfunction in the hastily constructed machinery. The tense set of Thrax's shoulders and the calm demeanor of the white-coated blood cell told her otherwise.

Suddenly, the two clasps moved in opposite directions with an abrupt violence. There was a horrible _crunch_ and Stella, shocked, slammed her eyes shut, but not before seeing Thrax's pale eyes widen and appear to go blank.

She squinted her eyes even tighter and pressed her forehead to the window when the crunch was followed by a _crack._ She finally heard the voice she had been working so hard to hear raised in a ragged, piercing scream.


	7. The Pain of Empathy

Chapter 7

The Pain of Empathy

/ooOOOoo\

"_You didn't want to make any _mistakes_!? I'd say this was a pretty big _fucking _mistake if you ask me!"_

Stella could hear the angry voices from earlier bouncing around in her mind. Back and forth, enough to drive her to distraction, which may have been a welcome relief from focusing on the dismal creature before her.

She was back in the white room with Thrax, or what had been Thrax. Now, he seemed to be an empty shell and any hope Stella may have had of communicating with the virus seemed to be lost for good. She winced at the sad scene before her and the mess they had made of everything.

"_You just crippled our last hope of surviving this disaster!"_

"_What would you have me do then!? That virus was openly threatening the safety of everyone around it! Did you forget about Liam?"_

Thrax's small body sat on the other side of the room, leaned up against the wall, head down, eyes vacant. He looked smaller and much more childlike now without the intensity and intelligence emanating from his gaze. Instead, there was nothing in his pale eyes.

"For what it's worth, I'm so sorry…" Stella felt so useless sitting there. There was nothing she could do or say to fix what had been done.

Thrax's right hand twitched where it was cradling the left. His left hand was hanging uselessly from his mangled shoulder, the position of which was obviously horribly, painfully wrong, and the once ominous left claw was limp. The fact that the virus seemed to acknowledge her words in some way was encouraging; however.

"_Of course I didn't! I just… what do we do now?"_

Stella pinched the bridge of her nose against the onset of a headache and stood to leave the room, preparing herself for more of the nightmares that had plagued her since the day she'd first heard the virus's voice under the worst possible circumstances. Nightmares of awful cracking noises and the screams of children.

She looked back at the blank red face behind her one last time as the well-secured door opened to allow the brain cell to pass through, thinking that a child spearheading their battle for survival was better than a broken doll.

_What do we do now?_


End file.
